


Merry Month of Mayhem

by elanorofcastile



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Animal AU, Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M, Multi, Not Beta Read, Other, POV Animal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-04 17:12:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elanorofcastile/pseuds/elanorofcastile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of only loosely connected drabbles and ficlets about Jim Moriarty written one a day on each day in May.  These are not beta read and written the day they are posted, so I apologize now for any grammar mistakes.  Tags for characters, pairings, and other things will be added along the way.  Warnings do not necessarily apply to each section.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. May 1

The first suit Jim can remember wearing is a second or third hand jacket and clip on tie for Mass. He's only seven and it's some sort of luck that it fits him after making its way through his cousins. The only major sign of previous wear is the end of a sweet permanently embedded in the little inside pocket, withstanding even his mother's cleaning.

There is a loose thread in the cuff where his aunt had repaired it, hand stitching buckling the fabric as it didn't quite match the machine stitches, and he tugged at it each week as they sit in Mass. When he finally tugs at it enough that he pops the seam open, Jim can't help but immediately push a finger into the hole he made. He had wondered if his cousin could have hidden something inside the cuff before his aunt had sewn it up, but he can't feel anything.

As he keeps toying with the hole, Jim half listens to the cadences of the priest's voice. He doesn't understand all of the words, just listening to the sound and toying with his sleeve. He is thinking, imagining, finally slipping into a daydream about the things that could be hiding in his sleeve. Jim creates monsters, creatures, things that could bite off his finger, and he doesn't want to stop exploring, doesn't want to take his finger out, even though _it_ could get him, bite off his finger, eat his hand, eat him, eat everyone, and...

Jim doesn't make a sound, his rapid breathing the only sign that he had lost himself in his thoughts. Soon they're standing, the recessional hymn bringing Jim back. He slips his finger from the hole, looking at how it is (not covered in blood, a stump, gone) perfectly fine before slipping his hand into his mother's for the walk home.

The first time he sees (okay, yes, causes) a man to lose part of a finger Jim thinks of that suit and the creatures lurking in the dark and wonders if he was the _it_ that was waiting there.


	2. May 2

Jim never wears gloves on the job, and it makes Sebastian _angry_. It's not that he's afraid of Jim's fingerprints, of the chance of getting caught (the possibility doesn't even cross his mind). It's everything else. It's the poisons and toxins and drugs that can sink into your skin, the hidden sharps and edges of glass waiting to cut, the blood and viscera of Jim wrist deep in an abdomen, it's all there. Waiting. None of Sebastian's contingency plans could ever take into account Jim's goddamn hands. He can't see everything, and he won't always be there to still Jim's hand before he sets himself on fire, but he'll do his best to keep the match from being lit as long as he can.


	3. May 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whew, the power is back on! Written while waiting for The Avengers to start.

Jim doesn't drink. Oh he has a liquor cabinet full of bottles, but only half have actual liquor in them. He hates to lose any sort of focus, to be vulnerable or weakened in any way and the slight bitterness of the coloured water has grown familiar after years of entertaining. Instead he proves himself a master actor by faking the tells of intoxication. The little fumbles, the slurs, the "accidental" revealing of secrets, they're all designed to lure a mark, to give the idea that he's nothing more than a suit or just another one of the lads.

When Big Brother Holmes sits with Jim for storytime between beatings, he tells the tale of dear Sherlock's past drug habit. For all that Mycroft's loose lips are sinking the entire Royal Navy, he never says what drug, but Jim knows Sherlock's magpie mind and the answer is clear. Jim is sad, then immensely angry beneath his placid expression. The weakness of addiction brings Sherlock down to the dirty level of humanity, makes Sherlock... less than he seems. The anger comes from a twisted disappointment, angry at _Sherlock_ for almost depriving Jim of his greatest challenge. From what Mycroft gives away between the words it was a long struggle, and Doctor Watson is clearly the man keeping Sherlock from relapsing.

Once Mycroft and the hitters leave for the day, Jim closes his eyes and smiles. So much more than just a heart to burn, now, as Jim gathers matches and gasoline from Mycroft's giving hands. Soon enough he'll be able to burn Sherlock's whole world down.


	4. May 4

For all of the things that Jim has managed to master in the world, cooking is the one thing that has evaded him. Use, misuse and maintenance of weapons? Check. Fastest and slowest ways to bleed a body dry? Check. Three languages and starting on a fourth? Check. Making toast and tea? Half a check, and can you turn off the smoke alarm, _please_. Tea he can do. He had forced himself to learn and master to keep up with appearances, but anything more than boiling water and there's bound to be smoke, if not flame. Truly, if Sherlock Holmes wanted to defeat him, he should send Jim a box of ingredients and a recipe, daring him to complete it. The resulting fire would certainly be an effective way to neutralize him and send a clear sign to one of Jim's hideouts. "Criminal Mastermind Defeated By Five-A-Day" would go over well with the papers, probably the best headline he could hope for. But for now, he sticks to tea and takeaway, hiding in plain sight with a hat and a box of lo mein.


	5. May 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I doubly apologize for any grammatical errors in this one, based on the subject matter. My thanks to xtinethepirate for her applying her excellent editorial eye to some of John's blog entries!

Jim looks forward to Watson updating his blog, taking the time to print a copy and make a pot of tea before really reading it. He has devised a complex scoring system including points off for terrible puns, punctuation mark abuse, bonus penalties for comma misuse, complexity of sentences including fragments, and just general fawning over Sherlock.

This afternoon's delight is running at a midlevel of quality, pulled low by an excessive amount of fragments and several awkward tense shifts. He finishes scoring his copy before folding the sheet of paper in half. Jim slowly drinks his tea as he waits for Sebastian. Currently they've only checked twelve of Watson's posts, the others not being long enough to be worth their time, and Jim has an eight to four advantage. He grins as Sebastian finishes, wondering if he'll narrow Jim's lead to only three.

Sebastian swipes Jim's teacup as he passes his paper over, grimacing at how sweet the tea is. Jim grins at Sebastian as he compares their marks. His face slowly falls as he sees that Sebastian caught more misplaced commas this time. He's pouting when he has finished, conceding that they are now eight to five.

At Sebastian's seated bow to an imaginary audience, Jim rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, good job. I'm sure there will be an interesting murder soon enough, something to boost me forward. Only a year left until the end, now, so there's only so many more opportunities. Best review your participles before then. Go on then, go sharpen your knives or something." Sebastian mock salutes, and Jim steals his tea back.


	6. May 6

Jim's feet twitch as he sleeps, dreaming of reflections of water off a pool, a tall man with a gun, a short man smelling of explosions, and bits of sound, laughing, the gun, the smell of bad things. The tall man points the gun at him, down to the pile of cloth and semtex that had been draped on the shorter man. Jim knows what happens next, can feel the push of the explosion and the loudness of the boom. He's seeing it from a different point of view, though, taller. Strange. Jim isn't sure why this man wants to make things go wrong, and he knows he has to protect Sebastian, protect the patrol so he lunges at the tall man, aiming to knock the gun away and push him into the water. And then...

He jerks awake, Sebastian's voice calm but sleepy as he runs his hand along Jim's side. A dream, yes, bad dream. The smell of desert and men and war surround him again. He whuffles and lays his head back down, licking Sebastian's fingers in thanks for the pets. He must be a bit confused from the new people to be having such odd dreams, and he tucks his nose against Sebastian's neck, licking once to taste and be sure it's him. Content that it is Sebastian next to him and it's safe for now, Jim relaxes. He doesn't go back to sleep, though, just perking an ear up to keep watch over his handler as Sebastian dozes for a bit more. Jim is happy to keep watch, wanting the best for his handler. They're all they have and he'll take down as many people as he needs to keep his Sebastian safe. As the sun comes up and the smells of warming ground start to filter in, Jim pants happily at the prospect of a new day with his Sebastian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Jim as a military working dog. That happened. I'm thinking [Malinois](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belgian_Shepherd_Dog_\(Malinois\)), as he doesn't seem the type to be a spaniel or retriever.


	7. May 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have to give credit where it's due to [a-pint-of-lestrade](http://a-pint-of-lestrade.tumblr.com) for inadvertently helping me connect the dots I was trying to when I stumbled across her post about [Carl Powers and Moriarty as kids](http://a-pint-of-lestrade.tumblr.com/post/20676821922/kid-moriarty-ramblings-and-stuff). This isn't fully fleshed out, and will likely pop up again later this month as I put together thoughts. I really want to do a giant long exploration of the possibility of Jim having been involved with the IRA, but I need to do some research and the like first. One day!

After Carl dies (is murdered, shhh no one knows, you did a good job Jimmy), it's easy enough to put on some tears and have his parents pull him from the care of his grandparents and the school in Brighton. They're apprehensive about having him back in Belfast, but he knows it's exactly where he wants to be. He's an Irishman, and nothing any of the kids say could make him less proud of that. His grandparents had told him to keep his head down and concentrate on school, keep to himself, but it was nothing but weakness on their parts. Jim is almost twelve and he's ready to be a man, to make his home safe and make a name for himself. They'll see who's laughing then, and no one will dare taunt him again.


End file.
